The mom also gets angry sometimes, not just at the man who inflicted this pain on her family but with herself. She figures there were points in the road where she could have gone left and went right. Her son could have signed a pro baseball contract, he could've avoided Gainesville and the University of Florida and that night -- Oct. 30, 2003 -- outside the Grog House.

"I always preach to my children, `Live for today; you can't change what's already happened,'" she says. "But why can't I let it go? If I would have not been so stubborn and let him sign . . . who knows? I second-guess myself every day. I know it's the right decision for him to be where he's at. I just wonder if one day, I'll stop beating myself up for it."

LOVE OF BASEBALL STARTS EARLY

The love affair between Brandon McArthur and baseball began when he was 5. By the time he was 10, he had taken over his family's two-car garage in the Tampa suburb of Seffner. He made a home plate against one wall and created a pitching mound from a bunch of old rugs. The young boy would tape homemade lineup cards to the water heater and play garage baseball with a tennis ball.

"It's all he ever wanted to do," says his mom, Valerie Bullock.

In high school, baseball was much more than a hobby. His former coach remembers one winter break when McArthur showed up at the field at Armwood High to hit balls off a tee. On New Year's Eve.

"It was freezing outside," says the coach, Joey Fernandez. "I went there to get some stuff organized for tryouts. School wasn't in session so nobody was there, and he just shows up. Most people on New Year's Eve aren't thinking about practicing. It just shows you how much he loves this game."

McArthur enjoyed a stellar high school career. He hit .419 as a senior and was chosen Hillsborough County's most outstanding player, etching his name alongside past winners such as Gary Sheffield and Tino Martinez.

In June 2003, he was drafted in the fifth round by the Minnesota Twins. Many friends and family members urged him to go pro, but his mother really wanted him to attend college. So he did, bypassing the money and honoring his commitment to play shortstop at Florida.

During fall practices, he made a strong case for the starting job. On the night of Oct. 30, McArthur, 19 at the time, and some teammates went to the Grog House, a bar and restaurant on University Boulevard, across from campus, to celebrate the last day of fall practice.

Shortly before 2 a.m., the small group was on the sidewalk in front of the Grog House. Jeff Corsaletti, a teammate and close friend, says he reached into his pocket to get his car keys. He heard a group of girls call McArthur's name from nearby, and he looked up.

That's when he saw Jonathan Head, a 23-year-old former UF student, lunge at McArthur. The baseball players said they'd never seen Head before and still today don't know why he attacked McArthur.

It was a single punch to the side of McArthur's head. He hadn't anticipated the blow, and he fell to the ground limp, his head slamming against the cement.

Corsaletti tended to his friend, asking someone nearby to dial 911.

PREPARING FOR THE WORST

Operator: "9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

Girl: "There's someone that's been hit. They think there's been a spinal injury, and they won't turn him over, and he's throwing up. He's laying on his side and bleeding very badly."

Operator: "Where's he bleeding from?"

Girl: "His mouth. His eyes are rolled back in his head; his mouth is open. He is puking. Someone needs to get here."

An ambulance arrived and rushed an unconscious McArthur to nearby Shands Hospital.

Over the next two days, he had two brain surgeries to remove blood clots. Doctors had to cut away 5 percent of his brain. The second operation left him in a drug-induced coma for three days.

His parents, his coach, his teammates and his friends rushed to the hospital that first night. Doctors prepared them for the worst.

"None of us were thinking, `I hope he can play baseball again,'" says Dr. Kelly Foote, McArthur's neurosurgeon. "We were just hoping he'll be alive tomorrow."

Progress was slow in those initial days. Most of the news came in the form of warnings from doctors. They didn't know whether he'd live. Then it was whether he'd walk. Then it was drive.

His friends and family kept worrying about baseball.

"We just wanted Brandon to be Brandon again," Fernandez says. "And we know that without baseball, he wouldn't have been Brandon."